My Abduction
by Bells of Tomorrow
Summary: Their hosts were not hosts, but captors. And their captors had no interest in learning from them; at least not by means of conversation.


_**A/N:**__ There's really nothing to say about this one other than one: I'm sorry. Two: I seriously have no idea what caused me to write this. And three: I really am sorry. Anyway, yeah…here we go._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

_**Warning:**__ Character death(s); violence._

**My Abduction**

He's past wondering whether or not any of this is real. By this point, he's tried over and over again to close his eyes and pretend it's all just another fantasy. Maybe it would have been easier to elude himself into believing what was currently taking place was fictitious if he'd been able to tilt his head to the side, but considering there's a large, metal bar strapped over his forehead and onto the iron table beneath him, he knows it's a move he cannot pull off.

Instead he chooses to study the creatures around him for what feels like the millionth time over. At least that's what he tells himself he's doing, but he knows that who is studying who is completely and utterly reversed; knows that his wide, red rimmed eyes look infinitely crazier than curious.

Oh, he's so past curiosity at this point. In the beginning of all of this, he had kept his ever present desire for all things doctor-ly in the forefront of his mind, hoping that it would, eventually, outweigh the absolute panic. He had remained himself long enough to take in their physical appearance; to wonder what he could learn from these beings – if they were beings inclined to share – that would somehow help the human race. He wasn't selfish in his way of thinking though (something he had given himself a lot of credit for given the position he found himself in) since he had also seriously considered if there was anything _he_ could share with _them_. Despite the obvious differences in their anatomy, he wondered if they could benefit each other; could find just one similarity in the way their bodies functioned in order to help their species heal.

But his desperate idea for some kind of utopia was quickly put to an end when he could no longer deny what he knew from the very beginning.

Their hosts were not hosts, but captors. And their captors had no interest in learning from them; at least not by means of conversation.

Fear outweighed hope as he watched, helpless from his cell, as each one of his friends were taken away from him.

Perry – who had been trying so hard to stay strong for them; their last beacon of hope; their last chance of survival – was taken away first. It was then that curiosity left him for good, because he didn't want to know what they were doing that could make his mentor scream like that, nor did he want to know why he never came back. He does know though, he does. He knew the minute they charged in and grabbed him that it was a permanent goodbye.

Next, they took Turk, and it's then that all reasonable thought joins both hope and curiosity in their eternal departure.

He was sure he'd be next, since their gravitation towards men was obvious, and he almost wished he was when he wasn't; when he's forced to sit there, continually helpless, and watch them pick off the women, one by one.

Carla and Jordan had cried. Elliot hadn't. If he lives through this, he knows that will baffle him for the rest of his life.

But his life isn't in his hands; not anymore. And as his captors finally come to take him away, he wonders if it ever really was.

As he's stripped down and locked to the iron table set before him, he doesn't even stop himself from crying, though oddly enough, he doesn't make a sound. He knows very well that the screaming will come later.

It's not until he's completely immobile, back pressed to the metal slab, ankles and wrists strapped tight, does he wonder if he's lying on the very same table on which his friends had died. He tries desperately to tilt his head and let his mind wander; tries frantically to convince himself that it's all just another crazy fantasy, but to no avail.

As his wide, blood shot eyes take in one of his captors coming towards him, something in it's hand that was undoubtedly made for dissecting, he is surprised to find that his mind is still sane enough to go all the way back to biology class. The last thing he wants to think about before dying is his high school years, but he can't help himself. He thinks of the day they were all given frogs. How disgusted he felt upon having to slice the thing open; how vile it smelled. He thought about how he completed the experiment despite those things, simply in that it was necessary, though what purpose it really served, he still doesn't quite understand.

JD wonders if that's how these creatures see him as well; wonders if he's nothing more than a mere experiment that all of them are required to take part in. But most of all, he wonders why they didn't have the common decency to kill him before doing so.

But all he can really think about as the invader make it's first incision is how grateful he is that his friends are already gone, just so they won't have to hear him scream.

_**A/N: **__I'll be honest with you guys: I freaked myself out a little when writing this one… (Believe it or not, I actually love sci-fi) I don't know why this plot bunny hit me the way it did, but I knew it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. That being said, I hope you guys will forgive me for whatever that was, exactly. Until next time._


End file.
